


Slutty Little Darling

by salixbabylon



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-27
Updated: 2010-11-27
Packaged: 2019-05-19 05:39:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14867666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salixbabylon/pseuds/salixbabylon
Summary: Morning sex is usually slow and lazy - unless you're with Eames.  It is sloppy, though.





	Slutty Little Darling

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently the summary was a bit too vague - includes rimming, talking about vaginas in a positive way, and lots of dirty talk from Eames. Originally intended to be part of the [Arthur/Eames Rimming Meme](http://cherrybina.livejournal.com/160956.html).

Eames has been spooning Arthur for a while now, a hard erection pressing into the back of his thigh, the gentle nudges not really rousing Arthur from his much-needed sleep. Eames tosses and turns, gets up and comes back, and Arthur ignores him, wallowing in comfortable darkness. It’s only when he feels the sharp tug of Eames clipping a chain onto Arthur’s nipple rings that he fully wakes up.

It’s the short chain that Eames likes best, barely long enough to reach the distance, pulling on Arthur’s rings in a steady tug that’s more of a stretch than the pinch of clamps or ache of weights, but makes him aware of his body with every breath.

“Want you,” Eames breathes into Arthur’s neck, cock insistent against the crack of his ass.

Lazy tendrils of arousal begin to spiral through Arthur’s body, starting in his nipples and ending up lower - in his balls, his asshole, and of course his dick. He spreads his legs apart and immediately a wet finger is probing at him, smearing on lube, and he lets out a deep moan as Eames’s thick cock presses inside his still-stretched ass. He’s not really ready, but he’s not awake enough to protest, even if he was so inclined. Which he’s not. Eames could fuck him any way he wanted – has, even – and Arthur never protests the details. Once he’s naked and in bed, Arthur’s pretty much game for anything, to Eames’s everlasting surprise and delight.

In fact, once he’s decided he’s going to fuck someone, Arthur is equally happy being in control or giving it up. He and Eames trade submission back and forth as their whims takes them, but this morning it’s evidently all about Eames taking charge, just like it was last night. Eames fucks him, their bodies warm and plaint with sleep, sweat and pleasure building at a steady pace. And Eames, of course, talks. What he says doesn’t make sense, or it might, but Arthur’s not paying that much attention. He gets the gist of it.

“Loose and sloppy for me, aren’t you? So wet, almost like a girl, my slutty darling…”

If he was more awake, Arthur would take umbrage at that, but for now he doesn’t really care, not when Eames’s cock is nailing his prostate like that, making him see stars with every stroke. Eames’s arms are wrapped around him, holding him close, and his back is arched so that the chain tugs at his nipples and the only thing in Arthur’s head is _Yes, yes, yes._

He must have said that out loud because Eames’s voice is amused the next time he speaks.

“Do you miss girls, love? Want one? I’ll get you one if you want, be one for you, even. I know how oral you are - we’ll get you a hot, wet bit of pussy and you can tease and lick and eat her cunt while I fuck you from behind, yeah?”

Arthur doesn’t mean to let out the ragged groan he does at that, but Eames shifts position and that, coupled with the image his lover has created pretty much _totally_ does it for him. Eames just laughs a bit, breaths growing shorter, and fucks Arthur until they’re both near the brink, rambling filth about cunts and how juicy and delicious they are, and how Arthur’s nearly that wet himself when Eames reaches around to squeeze his cock. And yeah, he’s leaking and slippery, and the sheets underneath him are already sticky-damp, but Arthur has his limits and if Eames calls his asshole a pussy, he’s going to turn around and beat the shit out of Eames.

He almost does that anyway when Eames stops and pulls out, orgasm just barely out of reach and slipping through Arthur’s figurative fingers as Eames moves away. He’s about to protest – vehemently - but Eames seems to have a plan, and while it had better be a damn good one, Arthur’s willing to give him the benefit of the doubt because Eames’s plans usually are.

Eames rolls him over and straddles Arthur’s hips. He tugs away the condom and tosses it, then kisses Arthur like he’s never heard the words “morning breath”, grinding their erections together, sliding in all the shared pre-come and sweat. They are _wet_ , honestly, since they were both so close to coming, and yeah all right, it’s mostly from Arthur, but that’s what happens when his prostate’s getting fucking _milked_ for what feels like forever.

“Suck your juices off me,” Eames says, crawling up the bed and shoving his cock in Arthur’s face. Arthur rolls his eyes a bit, but if Eames wants some role playing, fine. He licks and sucks, not fully taking it into his mouth, just closing his eyes and letting the scent and taste wash over him. He licks Eames clean, then moves down to do his balls, but Eames pulls away.

Turning over, he spreads and says, “Eat my ass, Arthur. Eat me like you would a girl – tease me, make it good.”

And Arthur… Arthur’s never done this. Eames _knows_ he’s never done this; it came up once before, when Eames wanted to rim him. He doesn’t have an objection, really, he just somehow hasn’t done it yet. In all the times he’s _doing_ \- rather than being _done to_ \- he has never been quite brave enough to suggest it. He hasn’t had that many steady partners, after all; not ones he’d trust to be prepared for this sort of activity without discussing it.

“Go on, love; fuck me soft and open with your tongue,” Eames says.

That’s all the encouragement he needed; Arthur shivers and leans in and gets to work. It’s… musky, for want of a better word, but women taste earthy too. He’s a bit tentative at first, but Eames has one hand on Arthur’s shoulder, pulling him in closer, making encouraging noises along with the steady stream of “Yeah, that’s right, darling,” and moans. Soon enough Arthur’s losing himself in it, and it’s totally different from eating out a pussy but it’s also sort of the same, face buried in someone’s body, focused on their pleasure, their responses, lapping and licking and tasting.

He moans when he shifts and his neglected erection presses against Eames’s foot. Both of his hands are occupied spreading Eames’s ass open to his mouth, so there’s no other friction available, and it feels so fucking good that he can’t stop pressing against it again, and then again. He’s kind of humping Eames’s foot, in fact, which is pretty weird but Arthur is too busy right now to care about anything other than how it feels.

“Not until I come,” Eames says in a stern voice, far too coherent for someone Arthur’s been eating out for long enough that his entire face is wet with saliva and sweat.

Sensing a challenge, Arthur slides two fingers first into his mouth and then inside Eames’s hole, loosening the ring of tight muscle with his tongue first and easing in as it relaxes. He’s licking and stroking, and Eames’s body shifts under him, the arm that’s been urging Arthur closer disappearing to hold Eames up as he strokes himself off.

Most of Eames’s vocabulary has devolved into heartfelt groans and “Fuck yeah” as his balls draw up tight and his hips start to flex involuntarily. Arthur’s panting pretty hard himself, struggling to catch his breath while he tongues Eames’s ass open and fucks it with his fingers, his cock pressing into Eames’s heel making him struggle for control.

“Can’t believe you’re rutting against my foot, hard and wet, pressing your prick against it just like you would if you were a girl, your wet little clit against my heel, so delicious and slutty for me, come on, yes, there, oooh…”

Arthur is too gratified by Eames’s orgasm to pay attention to his babble. The feeling of Eames’s asshole clenching and moving under his tongue, around his fingers, squeezing the tip of his tongue as Eames shouts and bucks and finally - _finally_ \- comes is indescribable. Arthur can breathe clean, fresh air, but the scent of Eames’s body is still all over his face and Eames presses his foot back against Arthur’s dick, and it’s all over. He comes hard, embarrassment making it all that much more inexorable, all over Eames’s foot and leg and holy fucking _shit_ , he can’t believe how intense it is, with the chain pulling hard at his nipples with each deep gasp of air and his tongue still touching the curve of Eames’s ass.

He shakes for a long, long time, moaning a little as Eames pushes him away, letting his brain go offline. He’s nearly slipped back into the fugue of sleep as Eames curls up next to him, but it would be far too much to ask from his lover to hope for some silence.

“My filthy little Arthur… _Definitely_ have to get you to let go of your ridiculous rules about fucking in dreams…”

He makes a questioning noise, even though he’s pretty sure he knows where this is going.

Eames proves him right. “Well it’s that, or I’ll have to share you with a girl in real life, darling, and I know I’d much prefer it was _my_ pussy your talented tongue was inside.”

Arthur huffs out a breath of protest, but doesn’t bother to argue. All of this talk about girls had begun last night when Eames had shown a surprisingly possessive streak after some random brunette in a bar had bought Arthur a drink. It had earned him a delightfully pouty Eames- who’d had to fuck Arthur extra hard once they returned to the hotel, to stake him claim- to say nothing of the flattery and free drinks.

“No mixing work and pleasure,” Arthur mumbles sleepily, more for form’s sake than as a genuine protest; it’s best not to let Eames get away with too much all at once, he’s found.

Mischievous fingers tug at the chain still connecting Arthur’s nipple rings, as punishment, but then soothe each one in turn as Eames unclips it. However, even the sharp burst of sensation isn’t enough to disrupt Arthur’s lassitude, and for once Eames seems content to burrow under the covers with Arthur and let afterglow carry them both away.

“I’ll win you over yet,” Eames breaths into his shoulder, his warm hands sliding around Arthur and pulling him close.

“In your dreams,” Arthur mumbles. As he lets go of the last few tendrils of consciousness, he thinks he hears a satisfied voice whisper, “Exactly.”

~end~


End file.
